Honor
by Budding Authoress
Summary: One of Horatio’s mentors when he first joins the navy is a midshipman known as “Old Sam.” But when Old Sam reveals the truth, Horatio becomes involved with a life that can only end in sorrow. Some material based upon the book ‘Beat to Quarters.’
1. Default Chapter

A/N: The first three lines are taken from the book/movie. I don't own them, or Horatio Hornblower, or anyone that you recognize from the series. Justinian, 1794 Honor (n): 4. Glory  
"Speak, apparition." One of the midshipmen said to the bedraggled youth before him.  
"M-my name is Hornblower." the youth managed to say.  
"What an infernal piece of bad luck for you." the same man answered. To his right, one of the men, with raven black hair, coughed slightly. When the youth, overcome at last by seasickness, vomited in a corner, only he did not laugh. "Leave him be." he said in a rough voice.  
"Easy for you to say, Old Sam." one of the men said, "You never had a weak stomach."  
"Even if I did, there's nothing funny about it." The man called Sam rose and came to the youth. "Easy, boy. We'll get you away from here."  
Once the man had helped the boy into a hammock, he managed a smile. "They always do that to the new arrivals. Don't bother your head about them."  
"Thank you, sir." the youth croaked. The man cocked his head. "I suppose we should be introduced properly. Everyone calls me Old Sam, and I suggest you do the same."  
"H-Horatio Hornblower." the youth said, grasping the man's hand, "It's nice to meet you, s-sir."  
Old Sam laughed. It was an unusual laugh, as though raindrops were softly falling upon cobblestones. It didn't quite fit the man's gruff persona. "Don't bother with that 'sir'." he said, "I'm only eighteen."  
The youth's eyes widened. "Then...why are you called 'Old Sam'?"  
"Because, frankly, the midshipmen are idiots. Well, all except two. You've met one. His name's Archie. He's harmless. The other's called Clayton. I expect you'll meet him later." He paused. "That's enough for now. Just rest. You'll have time to ask more in the morning."  
  
The first thing midshipman Horatio Hornblower decided to do when he got up that morning was to seek out Old Sam. He found the man sitting on a coil of rope, watching things around him. When he saw Horatio coming, he smiled and moved over to make room. "Feeling better this morning, Mr. Hornblower?"  
"Yes, thank you." Horatio sat besides him. Old Sam looked him up and down, and for the first time, Horatio realized how unusual Sam's eyes were. They were purple, a rare color in itself, but these eyes were clear and piercing. But now they shone with a quiet good humor. "You're going to be a handful, boy." Old Sam declared at last, "You're almost exactly like I was when I came here a year ago."  
"A year ago? Then...you were seventeen when you joined too!"  
Sam laughed that odd laugh at the youth's shock. "Yes, and I was given the same tongue-lashing about it as you had. But I earned their respect quickly by ignoring their scorn and throwing myself into my duty. Really, all they care about is the honor that they could receive from fighting battles, which is unlikely to happen at this point. We've been rotting here for months. A bit of new blood is just the thing I need to lessen the boredom." He held out a hand. "What do you say? Shall I make sure you don't repeat my mistakes?"  
Horatio grasped the hand firmly. "I'd appreciate that, Sam."  
Old Sam smiled. "I like that, boy. No one calls me that. It makes me feel like you trust me."  
  
Old Sam did what he could to teach Horatio ship life, but the lessons had to be cut short, thanks to the arrival of Jack Simpson. The moment he appeared, all the midshipman froze. Even Old Sam's gaze hardened. Horatio didn't understand their fear and anger at first, but by the end of the night, after he had been told he would be awoken every hour, he knew life was about to become a lot worse.  
It seemed, however, that Archie Kennedy, one of the other decent midshipmen, suffered more than he did. He awoke that night, screaming and thrashing about. Old Sam, Clayton, and Horatio got him back to his berth and calmed him. Old Sam looked mournfully down at Archie. "Poor man." he muttered, "How he can stand it..." He looked at Horatio with his violet eyes. "I don't know how you'll stand it." he whispered.  
  
During the navigational lesson the next day, Horatio felt uneasy. He couldn't quite tell what was wrong, but he was sure that something horrible was drawing near. But he forgot about it in his attempt to solve the problem, which he found to be incredibly easy. Indeed, he was the only one to get it right. Before they handed their slates in, Old Sam compared his answer to Horatio's. His eyes became wide. "Damn, you're good." he declared, "I was off by miles."  
The pleasant feeling of being complimented by Old Sam was rudely extinguished that night, when Simpson cornered him and beat him for being better at Navigation. He was knocked unconscious, and came to amidst a roaring pain all over his body. Glancing over, he saw Old Sam sitting there, holding a rag and a bucket of water. "Let's get this blood off you. You're going to have problems with the Lieutenants tomorrow, you bet on it. Why make you look worse?"  
As Old Sam gently cleared the blood from Horatio's face and back, the youth felt tears beating at his eyes. When Old Sam saw the pained look on Horatio's face, he managed a smile. "Don't worry about looking like a fool, boy. No one's going to criticize you for it." Horatio grasped the man's shoulder and wept. Old Sam had pity in his voice when he spoke again. "I'm sorry, boy. I should have warned you about Simpson. But it completely slipped my mind. I never thought he'd come back to the Midshipman's berth, and anyway, I'd never had trouble with him. I adjusted to him quickly."  
"W-why does he seem to hate me?" Horatio choked out.  
Old Sam wiped Horatio's back free of blood, then patted the youth's hair. "Because you're new, and you're better than him. The trick is to appear intelligent, but not as smart as him." He looked down at the youth and shook his head. "I know, that seems hard. Do what you will. I'll look out for you, if I can." Sam gently pushed Horatio away from him, and smiled. "Don't be discouraged, boy. Clayton and I agree that you're one of the more brilliant minds on board this vessel." He rummaged in his pocket and produced a necklace. "I believe this is yours." he placed it in Horatio's hand, then stood up. "Back to watch for me. Just remember, you're not alone."  
Horatio wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. I'm lucky in one respect, he thought, someone here looks out for me. I'll always be grateful for that.  
  
It was about a week later that Horatio, tiring of the hell that Simpson had made of his life, challenged the man to a duel. When the news spread through the ship, Old Sam was one of the first to seek Horatio out. "I thought you had a head on your shoulders, boy." Sam growled, "But this proves me wrong. Simpson will shoot you before you can even pull the trigger!"  
"I just want it to end, Sam." Horatio said, "Either by losing my life, or by taking his."  
Old Sam's look softened. "I understand that, actually. Most of the midshipmen on board have feelings like that at some point. But you're the first person who's actually tried to finish Simpson off. I'm sort of proud, in a way." When Horatio smiled, Sam went on. "Don't get cocky, boy. You need to know the basics about firing a gun."  
"Can you teach me?"  
Sam pulled out two pistols, handing one to Horatio. "We often practice our aim down in the Midshipman's berth. Are you sure you want to do this?"  
"If it means there's a chance that Simpson dies, then yes."  
Sam's water-like laugh seemed to echo down the deck. "I like the way you think, boy. Come with me."  
Below decks, Sam leaned a plank of wood against the wall and pinned his neckerchief to it. "See if you can hit that." Horatio looked at the pistol in his hand, then raised it until it was level with the scrap of cloth. Taking a breath, he pulled the trigger.  
The recoil as the gun went off sent the youth toppling over backwards. When he stood up again, nursing the bruise on his shoulder, Old Sam was laughing. "I'm sorry, boy, but that was rather pathetic." He rose and tapped to a spot well below the cloth. "If this was a man the size of Simpson, you just shot him in the leg."  
Horatio turned red. "Don't be discouraged, boy." Sam said, "Watch me, now." Sam lifted his own pistol to eye level, closed one eye to examine the target, then fired. For a moment, Horatio thought Sam had missed. But when the man unpinned the neckerchief, he showed Horatio the hole in the middle of it. "You see?" Sam grinned, "It's not all that difficult. We'll try it again tomorrow."  
By the time the morning of the duel dawned, Horatio had improved enough so that his shots grazed the cloth. Old Sam nodded at the youth's progress. "Not bad. There's a chance you might actually do some real damage to him." He helped pin the boy's cloak to his shoulders. "I can't come with you, as you know, so I'll just tell you this: remember all I taught you."  
"Thank you." Horatio murmured. Sam crossed the threshold of the room, then paused. "If all else fails, boy, die with honor."  
Horatio nodded, fear rising in his throat, as Sam swept away.  
  
But it was Clayton, and not Horatio, who died with honor. Clayton, fearing for the boy, knocked Horatio out and took his place. Horatio, filled with guilt, couldn't bear to look any of the midshipmen in the face...except one.  
"Cheer up, boy." Old Sam said, after he heard the news. "Clayton had his own grudges against Simpson." Sam looked around, and became confidential. "Clayton told me, after you challenged Simpson, that it was a damn shame that you had done it. Neither of us wanted such a promising youth to be cut down by a tyrant like Simpson. So he was doing you a favor." He clapped Horatio on the shoulder. "So, it's all turned out for the good, hasn't it? I heard that you've been transferred to the Indefatigable."  
Horatio nodded. "Captain Pellew's a good man. You'll be fine there. Best of all, rumors are flying that Simpson won't be joining you."  
"Aren't you coming?" Horatio asked. Sam shook his head. "They need me here. Anyway, I feel it's my duty to help any new Midshipmen who come aboard." When he saw the crestfallen look on Horatio's face, he managed a smile. "Don't worry, boy. I'm sure we'll meet again. Go on."  
  
Old Sam was right. When the Papillion sunk a British ship near the mouth of the Gironde, Horatio was one of the men who went out to look for survivors. Unfortunately, the first man pulled on board the jollyboat was none other than Jack Simpson. Simpson looked at the boy with pure hatred, and would have, no doubt, insulted him, had a familiar voice not called out, "Jack! Are you just going to let your mates freeze in the water?"  
Horatio stared in astonishment as Old Sam heaved himself into the boat. When his eyes fell upon Horatio, he grinned. "I told you we'd meet again." He looked at Simpson as he grabbed an oar. "Don't just stand there, Jack, help us get back to safety!"  
Once on board the Indefatigable, Old Sam found time to chat with his old friend. "Has life been treating you better, boy?"  
"Much better." Horatio answered, "But I'm afraid that it's about to get worse."  
"This isn't his ship. Anyway..." he regarded Horatio with those violet eyes, "I don't think he can bully you around anymore. You've changed in the months since you left us. You're more...mature."  
Horatio smiled. "It's more than that." he pulled out a neckerchief and handed it to Old Sam. Sam unfolded it and gaped at the hole directly in the middle of it. "My God." he said, then started laughing. "Boy, you are full of surprises!" Horatio joined in the man's mirth.  
  
When Simpson volunteered to join the jollyboat on the cutting-out expedition to the Papillion, Old Sam took one look at Horatio before saying he would come as well. When Horatio asked why, Sam shook his head. "Think about it, boy! Simpson's gotten worse since you left, and he's never forgiven you. God knows what he'll do to you if you're in the same boat. Besides, think about Archie."  
Horatio didn't understand until Archie threw another fit that night. Old Sam gave Horatio a dark look before bending over the Midshipman and trying to calm him. When it didn't work, Horatio forced himself to knock his friend out. Sam watched the midshipman collapse and nodded grimly. "It was all you could do." he whispered.  
Boarding the ship was nerve-wracking, but actually quite simple. Getting the sails unfurled was harder, but Horatio managed it through sheer determination. Simpson took advantage of Horatio being up on the rigging to shoot him. Fortunately, one of the men from Horatio's division managed to save his superior officer from drowning. When Old Sam found out the next morning, he was livid.  
"I'm sorry." He snarled, "I didn't know he had done that. Thank God for that crewman! Oh, I'll get Simpson for that!"  
"No." Horatio murmured, dabbing at the blood from his wound. "Lieutenant Eccleston died earlier this morning, and left me to command the ship. I've already put Simpson in irons."  
Old Sam's mouth dropped open. "You're in command?" Then he composed himself. "Aye-aye, sir." he saluted.  
  
Later in the afternoon, Sam cornered Horatio when the youth was coming back to the Midshipman's berth. "Did I hear that Captain Pellew is allowing you to fight a duel with Simpson?" When Horatio nodded, Sam groaned. "You're mad, boy. Yes, your aim has improved, and you've certainly proven yourself worthy in battle, but Simpson...who knows how he'll manage it, but he won't play by the rules. But, if you're serious, allow me to be your second." Horatio thought of the lessons Sam had given him, and nodded again.  
"Very well then," Sam said, "I shall be ready presently."  
  
By the time the boat touched land, Horatio had become very pale, and more than once was forced to empty the contents of his stomach over the side. Old Sam seemed sympathetic. "Easy, boy." he whispered, "Don't let Simpson intimidate you." He looked around. "Remember what I told you, months ago, before your first duel?"  
"You told me to die with honor."  
"Forget I ever said it. You have enough honor at the moment. You're not going to die." For the first time, Sam's voice lacked confidence.  
Sam stood behind Horatio and watched Simpson warily. When Simpson fired prematurely and hit Horatio in the shoulder, Sam sprang up and stood over the boy. "That was deliberate!"  
Groggily, Horatio lifted his head and watched Simpson run up to Old Sam. "I've had about enough of you, Old Sam!" Simpson snarled, "You've always been the only one I couldn't intimidate! Well, here's what I think of you!" Simpson slashed out with his gun, cutting Old Sam's shirt clean down the middle. Horatio opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he saw Sam's reaction.  
Sam looked down at his torn shirt and began laughing that laugh of his. "You're thicker than I thought, Simpson. You never figured me out until now!"  
Simpson's eyes were wide with shock. "It can't be possible."  
"Oh really?" Sam's voice suddenly changed. Instead of being gruff, it had become softer, more musical. "You don't believe the evidence of your eyes?"  
Horatio rose, blood coming from his shoulder. "Sam...what-?" He gasped when Sam turned his way. Now that his shirt had been slashed, Horatio could see, quite plainly, the curved outline of something that certainly wasn't muscle. A smile flickered across Sam's face. "You see it too, don't you, boy?" The musical voice seemed to surround Horatio. "Fight him, Horatio. Fight him and win."  
And the woman turned away from him and sat upon a rock.  
  
When it was all over, when Simpson was buried at sea, Horatio still felt numb with astonishment. The man who had been his mentor and friend since he had come aboard Justinian was really a woman. He couldn't fathom how she had managed to deceive them all.  
There was a tap at the door. Horatio looked up to see the woman, holding a rag and bucket of water, just as she had long ago. "Pellew won't begrudge me a few minutes to set that shoulder right." She sat besides him and began to clear the blood away. When she met his eyes, she didn't look away. "I suppose you hate me now." she said, matter-of-factly, "And I don't blame you. I should have told you, but you know how it is: you tell one person a secret while on a ship, next thing you know, it's all over the fleet."  
Horatio looked into her sparkling eyes. "No, Sam. You're still my friend, even if you've...changed."  
"You're putting it mildly." she said, laughing. "But I thank you for your words."  
"If I may ask," Horatio began, "What is your real name?"  
"It won't hurt to tell you now. I am Samantha Nottingam. When I put down 'Sam' on the roster, everybody assumed it stood for 'Samuel.'" She paused to dip the rag in water. "I know what you want to ask, so I shall answer. I joined the Navy to escape my old life. My mother died a year ago, and my father didn't seem to appreciate me, so I fled. I sold most of my possessions and got a commission as Midshipman." She sighed. "Well, Simpson's had his revenge. He exposed me to everyone, and I'm to be put off when we dock at Portsmouth."  
"I'll miss you." Horatio said before he could stop himself. She smiled at him. "Do you know that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me?" She finished cleaning the wound and stood up. "I guess this is goodbye."  
"One more thing." Horatio said, as Samantha turned to go. When she looked back at him, he asked, "Why did you call me 'boy'?"  
"It was a way of making you believe I was a man. Girls don't call gentlemen 'boys'. But when Simpson discovered me, our barrier was broken. That's why I called you by your name." She turned to go again, but paused in the doorway. "Something tells me we'll see each other again." She called over her shoulder.  
Horatio settled back in the hammock and smiled. "Good luck, 'Old Sam.'" 


	2. Chapter 2

Indefatigable, 1795 Honor (n): 1. High regard  
As Captain Foster climbed aboard the Indefatigable, Horatio gazed at him with unconcealed delight. He had heard great things about the man, and now he had a chance to talk with him! He was so enraptured that he didn't notice the disapproving look on Captain Pellew's face.  
Foster looked up at Pellew. "I hope you don't mind, Captain, but I'm bringing along a servant of mine."  
"Fine, fine." Pellew waved his hand dismissively. Horatio turned his gaze over to see the new arrival, who promptly tripped over the rope ladder and fell hard onto the deck.  
"For God's sake, girl!" Foster griped, "Can't you once do something without falling over yourself?"  
"Sorry, sir." the girl panted. Horatio, always the gentleman, came down to assist her. As he helped her to her feet, the girl gave him a glance, then did a double take. "Horatio?" she asked.  
Horatio didn't know what to make of this until he saw the girl's lavender eyes. "Samantha? Samantha Nottingam?"  
"I knew it was you!" she said, smiling, "I told you we'd meet again."  
"Girl!" Foster bellowed down the deck. Samantha rolled her eyes and headed after Foster. Horatio followed her with his eyes. It was the first time he'd ever seen her in a dress.  
  
At dinner that evening, Samantha was kept busy refilling wine goblets, allowing little time for Horatio to speak to her. But she did manage to give him a few sideways smiles as she passed him. Foster went on and on about the battle he had just fought with a Spanish ship. Pausing midway, he looked up and called, "Girl, what's taking you so long?" As Samantha bent to pour him more wine, Foster placed his hand on her stomach. Samantha's hand quivered, and some of the wine splashed onto the Captain's breeches. "Watch yourself, girl!" Foster snapped, "What is the matter with you?"  
"Nothing, sir." she murmured, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at the stain. "Don't trouble yourself, girl, go on and serve the others." Foster said. Samantha nodded and came to Horatio's side. "Wine?" she asked. Though Horatio felt he'd had enough, he allowed her to pour him another glass. He looked into her deep eyes and saw the distaste in them. He put his hand on hers under the table. She smiled at him, and her trembling hand became steady. "Meet me by the mainmast tonight." she whispered, "We have a lot to discuss."  
  
When Horatio arrived at the mainmast, he saw Samantha already waiting for him, leaning against the wood and gazing out to sea. Horatio paused to examine her, comparing her to the man he had known.  
Old Sam's counterpart didn't keep her hair in a queue. She preferred to leave it hanging around her, leaving parts of her face in shadow. She was slim, so much so that her body hardly betrayed any signs of femininity, unless you looked for it. Most men would have considered her to be plain. Horatio, looking at her, thought she was lovely. As he came up, a gust of wind blew her hair across her face, increasing her beauty. She turned slightly to regard him, a smile forming at the corners of her lips. "There you are! I was wondering if you'd forgotten."  
Horatio shook his head. "I don't break promises." He looked at her again. "How long have you been serving Foster?"  
"For about a year." She avoided his gave, seeming to be fascinated with a spot on the horizon. Undaunted, Horatio pressed on. "Is he really as skilled as the stories I've heard?"  
Samantha looked back at him. In her eyes, he could see that same distaste, as well as pity. "Yes. But he cares more about his own image than the livelihood of the men. Take the battle today. He was loathe to leave without a fight. Now look where that's got us." Her eyes hardened. "You may regard him with honor, Horatio, but I regard him with disgust." She placed her hand on her stomach.  
Horatio's eyes widened. "He hasn't been...has he?"  
"Oh!" Samantha seemed to come out of a reverie. "No, no. But he is interested. Shows how desperate he is, eh?"  
"I'll have none of that, Samantha." Horatio said, taking his hands in hers, "You are lovely."  
She looked at him, expressionless. Horatio dropped his gaze to her hands, noting how long and graceful her fingers were. Then he heard Samantha's quiet laugh. "You have the potential to be quite the charmer when you get older, Horatio." She took her hands from his. "I thank you for your kind words, but it is simply a fact that I am neither pretty or ugly. I am just...me."  
Somewhere on the ship, Foster called for her. She sighed. "My idleness is over." she said, passing her hand over his shoulder. The last thing he saw was her black hair whipping out of sight, almost blending with the night.  
The next morning, Foster departed for his own ship, with Samantha respectfully following behind. Before she left, she gave Horatio a smile and brushed her hand against his own. "Until we next meet." she murmured, before she slipped over the side.  
  
"Captain Foster! What on Earth are you doing?" Horatio called to the famous captain a month later. He had returned from gathering water, in time to see Foster's men carrying away three sides of beef from the supply ship Horatio had been protecting.  
"I think it is only fair, Mr. Hornblower, that you should give us a little of your bounty! After all, the rest of the fleet fares worse than you!"  
Horatio gritted his teeth. There was no way Foster could know, of course, but stealing the meat, besides being a crime, meant risking his men. "You should know, Captain, that we are a plague ship. The meat you carry might be infected!"  
There was an audible gasp from someone in the boat, and someone rose to address Foster. "Sir, if I may...if we take aboard this meat, we could all be killed!"  
"At least we'll die with our bellies full!" Foster retorted.  
"But sir!" The speaker in the boat protested, "Think of how this could endanger the fleet!"  
The crack from Foster's gun echoed off the two ships. The speaker gave a gasp and fell back into the boat, out of sight. "Anyone else protest?" Foster bellowed.  
Horatio at last had to let the Captain take the meat, seething silently. If the plague did escape into the fleet, he would be at fault. And even if it wasn't infected, one crewman had been killed, or badly wounded, for trying to convince his captain to do what was right. All Horatio's earlier feelings of respect for Foster had vanished.  
  
All too soon, the day of Horatio's examination for Lieutenant arrived. About fifty acting-lieutenants were clustered in the waiting room, nervously studying, testing each other, or just quietly having nervous breakdowns. Horatio was among the latter, praying for deliverance: He had just learned that Foster was among the examiners.  
The door creaked. Horatio looked up to see Samantha, one arm hidden by a cloak, entering the room. "The examiners bid me give you water while you wait." There was a murmur of appreciation. Samantha traveled down the room, pouring water, but speaking little. When she came to Horatio, the last applicant, her eyes widened. "I wasn't sure if I'd see you here." she murmured, giving him a smile, "I knew you would come soon, but I wasn't sure when."  
As she bent to fill the glass, Horatio caught sight of a sling underneath the cloak. "What happened to your arm?"  
Samantha looked at her arm. "It figures that you're the only one to notice. Well, you might as well know." She sat besides him and lowered her voice still further. "Foster would tell you that I fell from the rigging. The truth is that he shot me."  
"He..." Horatio looked aghast. "But...why?"  
"Actually, I don't know why I'm telling you this. You were there. That was you, in the boat, when Foster stole your meat?"  
"You were that crewman who protested!" Horatio realized. She smiled wryly. "Foster sent me over to help pick the best cuts of meat. You're asked to do the oddest things when you serve a captain like that. I didn't want to do it, but who was I to refuse? Then you returned, and, well, you saw what happened."  
"Samantha..." Horatio began, then stopped, unsure of what to say. Just then, Foster's voice echoed down the hall. "Next!"  
Samantha rose with the next applicant. "Good luck." she whispered, before disappearing into the crowd of men.  
Hours later, Horatio sat before the examiners, twisting his hands over the impossible question set before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Samantha cross to the window. He closed his eyes in despair. He had failed. Six more months as a Midshipman awaited him.  
"Sir?" Samantha's voice, quiet and urgent, made Horatio open his eyes. She was standing besides the window, her face illuminated by a bright light.  
"Not now, girl!" Foster snapped. Horatio could have sworn that as Foster turned back, he saw the Captain mouth the word 'bitch'.  
Samantha crossed to Foster and glared down at him. For now, she towered over him. "Sir," she began, and Horatio heard the voice of Old Sam coming out of her mouth, "I insist you look out the window. There is something you should see."  
"What is interesting to a serving girl is irrelevant to me." Foster said, dismissively.  
"Oh, a ship in flames about to ram your ship is irrelevant, then?" Samantha said, her voice oozing sarcasm. Foster leapt from his chair and dashed to the window. The other examiners and Horatio followed suit. Samantha was right. A ship, engulfed in fire, was sailing into the harbor.  
"By God, a fireship!" Foster hissed, "We have to stop it!" He turned on his heel and left the room, the examiners right behind. Horatio was left alone with Samantha. She cocked her head, considering him with her lilac eyes. "Why be left out? You have as much right to be out there as the others." She reached out with her good hand and gave him a push. "Go on."  
The last thing Horatio saw as he swept out of the room was the smile that crossed Samantha's face.  
  
The next morning, Horatio was told that a letter had arrived for him. The letter had been hastily written, yet the tone was calm.  
I hope this letter finds you before you set sail. I only just heard about the events of last night, and I am impressed by what I hear. Foster, I believe, has changed his opinion of you. I seem to recall him calling you an 'upstart.' He called you a hero before he left this morning. Always the fighter, I have gathered that he challenged Captain Hammond to a duel. I suppose I am the one to convey the unfortunate news that Foster was killed by Hammond at five this morning. Despite all he put me through, I feel sorry for him, even more so than I do for myself . I am out of work now, and shall return to my father in Portsmouth until I find another occupation. If you know of anyone who needs a girl to pour water or shoot a pistol, please let me know.  
'Old Sam'  
Horatio smiled. He could almost imagine Samantha's ringing laugh as she penned the last words. He was certain that she would be all right, wherever her next adventure took her. 


	3. Chapter 3

Port Royal, 1802 Honor (n): 5. Title of certain officials  
With a groan, Horatio dashed through the halls of Port Royal's prison. How on Earth did I manage to oversleep? he berated himself, It won't make a good impression if I show up at my own trial late. Wrapped up in these thoughts, Horatio wasn't aware of the people around him until he collided head-on with a woman leaving another room, who fell to the stone floor with a gasp, spilling the jug of water she was carrying all over herself. Despite his fear of being late, Horatio bent to help her. "My apologies, madam. I was rather hurried, and..." his voice trailed off as he stared into the woman's face.  
Samantha Nottingam wrung water out of her dress, tucked a strand of black hair under her cap, and looked at him. "Why is it that we always meet in the most unlikely of places?" she demanded, giving him a smile that seemed slightly strained. She picked up the water jug and turned to re- enter the room. "I suppose I'll need more water." Glancing over her shoulder, she called to him. "Get a move on! I'll see you sooner than you think."  
Puzzling those words, Horatio continued his mad dash, barely managing to arrive at the proper time. Gasping for breath, Horatio paid no attention to what was going on around him: that is, until he heard a voice in his ear.  
"Need a little water, speedy?"  
Horatio's head jerked up, and his eyes fell upon Samantha, holding a full water jug. "What...what are you doing here?" Horatio croaked. She poured the water into a glass in front of him. "Take a drink first. I can answer questions later." She swept away. Horatio downed the glass in one swallow, rejoicing in the cool liquid that coursed down his throat.  
  
It wasn't until the first break in the trial that Horatio was able to talk to Samantha. She was leaning against the wall of the courtroom, taking in the sun. Without opening her eyes, she said, "Your case doesn't exactly seem to be holding up. Even the honorable Pellew seems to doubt you."  
Horatio stood besides her. "When I want your opinion on my case, I shall ask you for it. It's time you answered my question." Samantha nodded, still not looking at him. "What are you doing here?" Horatio asked again.  
"I work here." she answered, as though it were obvious. "I've worked here for five years. I usually cook the meals for the prisoners, but sometimes I serve water to the people in court, as I'm doing now. It's tedious, but ten shillings a week are decent wages for me. Foster only gave me five."  
Horatio looked down at her-since he'd last met her, he'd grown at least three inches-and sighed. "All right, I can accept that."  
Samantha patted the wall besides her. "Come here. The sun feels delightful upon one's face." Horatio hesitated, then followed her example. After a pause, Samantha said, "Dare I ask how you got yourself into this predicament?"  
"They believe I pushed my old captain into the hold."  
She raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"  
Horatio glanced over at her. "I thought you'd say something like, 'That's impossible.'"  
"Things change in seven years, friend." She turned to face him. "People change, too." She opened her eyes at last, and Horatio saw reflected in those lavender orbs a trace of weariness.  
A bell tolled. The respite was over. Samantha closed her eyes again and turned back to the sun. Horatio stepped away from the wall, but as he moved away, he heard Samantha murmur, "If you need water, just cough."  
He smiled a little and vanished inside the courtroom.  
  
As the days dragged on, Horatio had to admit that Samantha's assessment of his case was spot on: it was becoming increasingly obvious that no one was buying the evidence of some of the other lieutenants. He did not fear the verdict, instead feeling guilty for disappointing Pellew. It was on the night before the sentence was to be passed that he felt any other feelings.  
At the usual time, there was a knock on the door: the cooks were bringing dinner. Several times, Horatio had been served by Samantha, who had smiled, but said little. He wondered vaguely if she was disappointed in him too. But tonight, when the door was opened, Samantha looked at him, then back at the guard. "I shall be staying here for awhile. Just lock the door."  
"But miss, your appointment..."  
"My appointment can wait." she snarled. The guard gave her an odd look and closed the door. Samantha turned back to Horatio and banged the tray on the table. "I need to tell you something, Horatio."  
Horatio didn't know what to say. She had been giving him the cold shoulder for days, and now she wanted to talk. "Couldn't you have done it sooner?" he finally said.  
She shifted her gaze. "Well..." she looked a little guilty, "You know as well as I that things are not going well for you. There's a chance, come tomorrow, that you will hang."  
"I know that!" Horatio snapped. Samantha's voice glided over his. "That is why I chose tonight. If you are acquitted, perhaps you can help, if you are condemned, then at least I told someone."  
"Told someone what?" Horatio demanded.  
Samantha was in no hurry to divulge her secret. "I told you, the first day, that I was earning ten shillings a week. The truth is, I earn much more. I can earn at least a pound a day."  
"Samantha," Horatio said, irritated, "Why are you telling me this? Either get to the point, or leave!" He crossed to the window and looked out. He hadn't meant to be so short with her, but his patience had been drained by these long days in the courtroom.  
A quiet noise intruded upon his thoughts, and he turned to see her fall upon the bed, weeping quietly. All his anger left him, to be replaced with shock. He had never seen Samantha cry. He had thought, deep inside, that she didn't know how. But now she lay before him, sobbing. He sat besides her and touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm a little tense. I shouldn't have lashed out at you."  
"No, it's not you." she choked, "Oh, Horatio, I need someone to listen, or I'll go mad!" She took a deep breath. "Horatio, I'm not just a cook here."  
"What do you..."  
"At night," Samantha panted, tears falling on her dress, "I have a second job."  
Every part in Horatio's being froze. It wasn't possible. "Sam....Sam, don't tell me that you..."  
"Yes, Horatio. I am Port Royal's official whore."  
"But...why?" Horatio was horrified, "You, of all people, selling herself! It cannot be possible!"  
Samantha wailed and pulled herself into him, burying her face in her neck. "Do you think I want to do it? That I enjoy it?" She raised her head and stared straight at him. Amid the tears, her eyes glowed with defiance. "Every man who I must 'serve' disgusts me!"  
"Then why do you continue to let them use you?"  
Samantha took a deep breath. "Listen well, Horatio. This whole mess started a year and a half ago...  
"I was given the task of serving water to the courtroom, which was trying a desertion case. The defendant was a twelve year old boy, and it just so happened that one of the judges was the boy's father. Had there been more high-ranking officers, he would never have been asked to do it. But that was not the case. And amid the worry that filled this particular Commodore, he happened to notice me.  
"He began to call me up to his room, to bring water, or wine, or something, as he was too busy reviewing the case to get them himself. Once I arrived, he would tell me I was beautiful, or that he wanted a woman to help take away some of his fear. But I continued to refuse him, sure that once the trial ended, he would end his advances to me.  
"But when the verdict came in, and the boy was cleared of all charges, the 'honorable' sir made his final move. He called me up to his room for wine, so he could celebrate the victory. I brought it, and he asked me to have a glass too. I poured myself a little and toasted his son. I was preparing to leave, when the man grabbed my arm, demanding that I stay and celebrate. I tried to refuse, but he threw me to the bed, gagged me before I could scream, and..." Samantha stopped, unable to say the words. Visions of what had transpired in that room filled Horatio's mind. It was almost too much to bear. Samantha regained her voice and continued.  
"I didn't dare tell someone. They would think me a liar, or, if they did question the man, he would deny it. His word against mine, you know. But I thought that that awful night would be the end of it. Instead, the bastard began to tell all his companions that I had been the best woman he'd ever had. So they became interested, and told their companions. The stories came down to the lieutenants, who didn't pass the story on, thinking that midshipmen weren't important enough to know this.  
"It was a lieutenant who started it all. He entered my room, told me about the rumors, and asked if they were true. I responded, 'If you're asking for me to prove them right, you can just go to Hell.' He laughed, and seized me. He was worse than the commodore, rougher, so rough that I was knocked unconscious. When I came to, there were five gold coins on the table, along with a note that read, 'For your trouble'. I threw the coins into the sea, not wanting to have anything to do with them. It was dirty money. Then I sat down and wrote to my father, positive that he would help. I begged him to send money to me, enough so I could leave this wretched place. I told him everything, and sent it off.  
"It took a month for his answer to reach me, and during that period, I was used three more times. Each time, they paid me, and each time, I threw the coins away. So when the letter arrived, I nearly cried with relief. I was expecting a letter of sympathy, of outrage. What I got was a piece of paper with two sentences scrawled on it: 'Let them do as they please. Send what they give you to me.' I couldn't disobey my father, so when a captain came to me that night, and left two pounds, I was forced to keep it. And ever since then, men come to me nightly. Only the officers know. Well, no, I'm wrong. The guard who locked me in knows. He's the one who guards my door so no one can come in and see these high-ranking gentlemen ruining their reputations."  
As Samantha finished her story, Horatio discovered that he had been embracing her, running his hands through her silky hair. He let go, embarrassed, afraid that she would become angry: no doubt the men who took advantage of her did similar things. But she took his wrist and placed it back upon her hair. "Please." she whispered, before completely going to pieces. He held her to him, letting her cry, as she had once done for him. When her sobs had subsided, she looked at him and gave him a weak smile. "You're the only prisoner who hasn't asked for my services. I can't tell you how much that means to me."  
Horatio touched her cheek. "You're still my friend, Sam. Friends look out for each other. Had I known sooner, I would have done all I could to stop it."  
She took a breath, and a light shone in her eyes. "You wouldn't have made a difference. But there's someone else here who shares your viewpoint. I'm sure you can guess who."  
Horatio knew. "Pellew."  
"Pellew." Samantha nodded, "The honorable Pellew. He came to me when he first arrived here. When I saw him, I thought, 'This is it. If a man who I hold in such great esteem will stoop to this, then I can trust no one.' But he sat besides me and asked if I was the woman who he met nine years ago, the woman who was known as 'Old Sam'. When I said yes, and told him my story, he said to me, anger blazing in his eyes, 'It will end, Miss Nottingam. I will not let them ruin you.' And he's been true to his word: only lieutenants have been coming to me since he arrived." She glanced out the window and heaved a sigh. "But I have to go. There's one waiting for me now." She rose and tapped on the door. Before she disappeared, she pulled out a scrap of blue cloth and tossed it to him. "For luck." was all she said. As the door banged shut, Horatio unfolded the cloth, realizing it was a neckerchief with a bullet hole through the middle. Despite his nerves, Horatio managed a smile.  
  
No amount of effort on Horatio's part could have coaxed a smile onto his face the next evening. His whole world had cracked into pieces. One of his closest friends had taken the fall for the incident, and had died shortly after the verdict was passed. His commanding officer was ruined: there was no chance in Hell of that man ever becoming captain. As Horatio thought about this, he gazed down at the papers in his hand. Official orders for Horatio Hornblower, commander of the new ship Retribution. He knew he should be proud, but all he felt was grief.  
Light footsteps running down the hall attracted his attention. He looked up to see Samantha, hanging onto the doorframe, panting. "Thank God!" she gasped, running over to him. She swept her hair back from her face and fixed a smile upon her face. "I...I just wanted to congratulate you on your new command before you left." She said, in a tone of forced calm. Horatio nodded his thanks, sure that was not the real reason for her visit. Of all the things he expected, he wasn't prepared to see her fall on her knees, clutching his hands. "Please!" she begged, "Please take me back to England!"  
Horatio pulled out of her grip and stared at his friend groveling on the floor. "What's come over you, Sam?"  
"I need out, Horatio." She said, tears springing to her eyes. "Pellew's leaving soon. Once he leaves, you can be sure the Captains and such will return for me. I can't hold out much longer. Look!" She raised her hands and showed him the long red marks on her wrists. "I've had to start tying up my wrists. My hands start shaking every time a man enters my room. Only numbing them stops the trembling. Even facing my father's rage at leaving is better than this Hell!"  
Even in his numb shock, Samantha's impassioned plea touched something in Horatio. He reached out his hand to pull her to her feet. "How could I deny passage to a woman in need? Welcome back to the Navy, 'Old Sam'."  
The feeble joke produced a feeble smile. "I can never repay you for this." she murmured.  
"Did I ask for you to repay me?" Horatio demanded, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Get your things. I set sail with first light."  
"I'm already packed." Samantha said. When Horatio raised an eyebrow, she laughed the laugh Horatio remembered from years ago, though it seemed rusty, as though it hadn't been used in a long time. "I was almost sure you would take me in, so I prepared before I came to you."  
There was a tap at the door. The guard who had let her into Horatio's cell the night before had poked his head into the room. "Pardon me, Miss, but there's a lieutenant Buckland asking for you. Says he needs to recover from the shock of today's trial."  
Samantha looked at him, and in one instant, her whole being changed. She stood straighter, her head came up, and her eyes flashed. "Tell him to find some other woman. Samantha Nottingam is nobody's whore!"  
And with that statement, she swept from the room to gather her belongings for the journey ahead. 


	4. Chapter 4

Portsmouth, 1802 Honor (n): 2. Good Reputation  
"Another bitterly cold night." Someone observed, stepping from the warmth of the Long Rooms to the street. Horatio nodded, shivering, breath coming from his mouth in whisps of smoke. He wished now he hadn't sold his coat. If he wasn't careful, he could end up coming down with something, which would cost him money, one way or another. He glanced down at his takings from the night: half a crown. He shook his head. It wasn't worth it to buy a drink, not tonight. He should save it to buy a new coat, or maybe to pay the rent. Mrs. Mason was getting restless, waiting for payment. Raising his head slightly to look at the cloudless sky, Horatio heard a woman calling out.  
"How about it, gents? Only five shillings, and you can escape the cold! I'll give you a warm room, something to eat, and anything else you desire!"  
Horatio shook his head. You'd think that whores would leave off peddling themselves on nights like this, he mused, It's too damn cold to stand about like they do. The woman called again.  
"Five shillings, gentlemen, that's all I ask. I offer this special price for out-of-work sailors! I know how hard your life can be, on and off land!"  
Horatio glanced down the street. He would have to pass the woman on his way to his lodgings. She'd probably take one look at him and turn away. Most of those women never bothered to give him a second glance. Not, of course, that he wanted them to. Why men waste precious coins just for a night of passion is beyond me. he thought.  
As he drew level with the girl, he glanced at her casually. If this girl works for a brothel, they really are desperate. he decided. She was almost as pale as the snow around her, and looked as though a sudden gust of wind would blow her away. Her dark eyes stood out starkly from her white face, while ebony hair hung down her back in an odd arrangement. When her eyes fell upon him, those eyes widened, enough for Horatio to see their violet hue. "It can't be." she whispered, "They didn't dismiss you. They couldn't have!"  
With a start of recognition, Horatio took in the girl again. "Samantha?"  
She nodded. "I never dreamed we would meet again. Well, at least not like this."  
Horatio couldn't understand it. She had cried when she had told him of what the senior officers had been doing to her at night, but now she was willingly selling herself. She held out her hand, which was trembling. "I guess we'll stick to a handshake this time."  
"No." he answered, digging in his pockets and producing five shillings, "I want to know what you're doing here." he placed them in her hand and closed her long fingers over the coins, "I promise I won't touch you." He looked at the red painted fingernails for a moment, then she pulled her hand away. "Thank you kindly." she said, leading the way inside the shabby brothel.  
  
Once inside, Samantha bade Horatio sit upon the bed, while she undid her hair and began to brush it. "I know you must be wondering about me." she said quietly.  
"I thought I knew you, Sam." Horatio said, reflexively calling her by her nickname, "I thought you detested being violated like this."  
He heard her voice quaver. "I do. Every night that I have a client, I shudder inside with loathing. I don't belong here."  
"Then why dishonor yourself and your family?" Horatio demanded.  
"Because my Father bids me dishonor myself." She answered, a bite in her voice. Horatio blinked. "Your father..."  
"When I came back to him and told him why I had left, he was angry at first, but then decided that it might be the best way to gain money for our household. So he looked for somewhere that would take me in as a..." she broke off and turned to look at him, eyes brimming with tears, "You can't imagine what I've been put through because of that decision. Night after night, men come to me, all wanting one thing. And I have to give it to them. What I have to suffer, just for five damn shillings a night!"  
"But surely you can use that money, or at least some of it, to pay your way out."  
She laughed, a harsh and hysterical cackle. "Sure! It costs three pounds for freedom here. I couldn't even make a pound a year here, even if I took customers by day!" She stood up and looked at him, fires blazing in her wine-colored eyes. "And it's not like I get to see the money for more than a day. I have to give all my wages to my father! He thinks that I don't need anything more than room and board, which I have here!"  
Horatio's hand instinctively touched her hand. She looked at him. "Surely he'll stop once he finds a job himself. Napoleon's stirring things up. There's bound to be a war. He can find work then."  
"Not my father." she answered, "He's made his way in the world by depending on others. First it was his parents, then his brother, then my mother, and now his daughter!"  
"But surely he won't keep you here forever."  
"As long as I can keep men happy, he won't let me stop. All he wants is to live like a gentleman, with a carriage and a manor. But it will never happen, and until it does, I shall never be free." She wiped away the tears that were beginning to fall from her eyes. "So I might as well become used to it." She glanced at the night outside. "Perhaps you should go. But I'll give you something to eat."  
Horatio had been sitting, numb, after hearing her story. Now he looked at her. When she turned her head, he could see traces of the woman he had befriended nine years ago. Then he thought of Mrs. Mason, and her displeasure if he didn't return to his room that night. But he pushed her from his mind. "I'll stay here, Sam. You need a friend by your side."  
She stared at him, her breath quickening. Then she fell into his arms, sobbing. "That's exactly what I need."  
He sat her on the bed next to him and stroked her hair back from her face. Her raven tresses now felt coarse to the touch. Digging in his pocket, he produced another five shillings. He knew he would regret it, but Samantha needed it more. He gave her the money. "Keep what I gave you before. Try to earn those three pounds."  
She looked at him, then at the money, and cried all the harder. "Even after I have repaid you, I shall forever be in your debt."  
"No, Samantha." He whispered, "I'm merely repaying my debt to you. I didn't know how I could thank you when you helped me when I first joined the navy, until now."  
"That was 'Old Sam.'" She answered, laying upon the bed and closing her eyes. "The new Sam has no place for a man who merely intrudes upon my father's wishes, or so he says."  
Horatio slid off the bed. "Old Sam or New Sam, I don't want to see you suffer." He looked around. "I'll stay on the floor. Do you have a spare blanket, or..."  
He looked behind him to see Samantha throw the covers of the bed open. "Please!" She begged, "Share my space. It was meant for two, anyway." When Horatio turned red, she glared at him. "You said you wouldn't touch me. I'm not asking you to. You said you'd stay, and no guest of mine sleeps on the floor. Anyway, it looks suspicious."  
Horatio hesitated, then climbed in besides her. She put her arms around him and cried into his thin jacket. He smiled sadly and slid his hand down her back. "Sleep, my friend. It might be the only undisturbed rest you get in a long time."  
When Horatio awoke the next morning, Samantha was gone. 


	5. Chapter 5

Lydia, 1805 Honor (n): 3. Adherence to right principles  
"Name?"  
"Polwheal." the man answered, "James Polwheal."  
Horatio examined the crewman before him, with shabby clothes and nervous hands. "You say you want to apply as my steward?" When Polwheal nodded, Horatio pressed on. "Can you cook?"  
"A little, sir. I cooked for my family when times were rough."  
That was satisfactory. Horatio nodded. "All right. Sign aboard." By the time Polwheal had finished signing, his hand had become steady.  
  
Polwheal soon proved himself to be a cook of simple tastes, which was exactly what Horatio wanted. He was also content to not to discuss matters above deck, as though he knew Horatio did not want to talk about them. Polwheal did his job, and nothing more.  
After five months at sea, however, Horatio began to develop an interest in the man. The silence in which the steward did his work was beginning to become disconcerting. So Horatio tried to get Polwheal to open up.  
"Where do you come from, Polwheal?" he asked once, as Polwheal prepared his captain's bath. Polwheal barely glanced at his captain before answering. "Portsmouth, sir." and leaving it at that.  
Another time, Horatio inquired about the health of Polwheal's parents. The steward had looked at him that time, but only for a moment, then murmured that they were both dead. For the first time since the journey had begun, his hand trembled. After that, Horatio gave up trying to talk to the man. But something still nagged at his brain. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd met Polwheal before.  
After another month had passed, Horatio had had enough. He had to know. He'd pondered it for a long time, and now he thought he'd guessed the truth. When Polwheal had brought his dinner, he called for the man to wait. "Polwheal, lately I've begun to notice that you bear an uncanny resemblance to someone I knew, long ago."  
"Really, sir?" Polwheal sounded indifferent...or was he only feigning it? Horatio continued. "He was a Midshipman with me, long ago. He had your eyes. We never knew his last name. We called him 'Old Sam'. Perhaps you met him?"  
The steward grinned. "Indeed, sir. He was my mother."  
Horatio nearly knocked over his glass in astonishment. He'd never expected that answer. "He was your mother?" he repeated, "To my knowledge, Polwheal, no man has yet birthed a child."  
"Surely you knew, if you were a midshipman, that Old Sam revealed himself to be a woman, Samantha Nottingam. She had a hard life, sir. I never actually really knew her until a year ago."  
"But if she was your mother, how could you not know her?" Horatio demanded. He needed to be sure Polwheal was not lying. If he wasn't, this was too incredible for words.  
"She had me when she was sixteen, sir. Her father tried to betroth her to a rich man. Well, they married, she had me, then her husband found someone else and left her without a cent to her name. She couldn't keep me or leave me with her father, so she left me with a friend, Sarah Polwheal. Since I grew up with her, I took on her name."  
Horatio was gaping in astonishment. Polwheal continued. "My mother only just managed to escape the brothel her father was making her work in. You see, she's with child again. She's not quite sure who the father is this time, though." Polwheal glanced out the porthole. "She came to me and told me everything. As we share the same eyes, I believed her immediately. I don't want her to suffer, sir, so I agreed to join the Navy. She told me your name, sir. I think she said you were one of the only men she had any respect for."  
Horatio nodded, amazed. He'd never known, in all these years, that Samantha had had a child. She'd never even mentioned that she'd once been married. He looked back at the man, then froze, calculating rapidly. If Samantha had given birth to Polwheal at sixteen, Polwheal should be about fourteen. But this man looked so much older...Horatio came to his feet. "No more lies!" He said, raising his voice, "Tell me who you really are!"  
In answer, Polwheal laughed. It was a laugh Horatio remembered well, like water dripping upon cobblestones. Polwheal sat down, still chuckling. "That was the best lie I've ever told. And I nearly convinced you! But I should have known you'd find me out." He raised his eyes to meet Horatio, lavender eyes that sparkled with mirth. "Yes, Horatio, it's me."  
Horatio sat down heavily. "How did you get here?"  
"You should know! You signed me on!"  
"No, I mean...how did you escape the brothel? Are you really bearing a child?"  
"Lord, no!" she said, looking disgusted, "No, I fled. I managed to convince my father that the owner of the brothel was demanding we pay him half our wages. In reality, I kept half for myself, planning on freeing myself when the time was right, and leaving to go to America. I was sure I'd be all right there. But my father was getting suspicious. I didn't want to have to put up with him again, so I took my money and few possessions and ran. I bought these clothes and passed myself off as a man. When I heard you were looking for a steward, I went to you immediately." she looked at him. "Are you going to dismiss me? I wouldn't blame you if you did."  
Horatio had been prepared for this. "No. You've been through too much. Anyway, God knows how long we'll be away from England. As long as no one else finds out, you may continue to serve as my steward."  
Samantha smiled and touched his hand. "I knew you wouldn't turn me away." She stood and became Polwheal again. "Shall I lay out your nightclothes, sir?"  
After he had discovered her, Samantha became a different person. Her eyes always had a sparkle in them, and she became more friendly. More than once, Horatio heard her laugh issuing from the galley. But throughout it all, she kept up her charade, and no one found out her secret. She admitted to him one night, after Lady Barbara Wellesley came aboard, that she had feared the woman would find her out. "She's a shrewd one," she said, "but I convinced her I was a man."  
  
Normally, Samantha remained below decks, cooking and aiding the ladies. But when the time came for the second and hopefully final battle with the Natividad, She asked Horatio if he wanted her assistance.  
"I wouldn't ask this, normally, but the last encounter lost you a number of your men. If you need the extra strength..."  
Horatio looked at her. "You are my steward, and a woman..."  
"Like that makes a difference." she said, laughing, though this time, it sounded like a growl, "You know I can fight. 'Old Sam' had some skill with a pistol, remember? Anyway, I suspect you'll need all the help you can get."  
Horatio considered her offer, looked directly at her, and finally nodded. She smiled grimly. "You won't regret it."  
Horatio didn't see Samantha again for sometime, as he was busy preparing for the battle. When it truly began in full force, he occasionally caught sight of her running across the deck, bringing gunpowder, lighting fuses, even kicking a few men to make them go faster. But he had no thought to spare for her, as his mind was full of calculations, weather, and other conditions.  
As evening fell, Horatio let out a snarl of fury. "Damn! We're nearly there, but we've lost so much!"  
"Watch it, sir!" he heard behind him. The next thing Horatio knew, someone had pushed against him, knocking him to the deck. A second later, there was a cracking noise, as a cannon shot landed precisely where he would have been if the sailor hadn't pushed him out of the way. The man in question suddenly gave a shriek of pain. Horatio looked at the sailor, and saw, amid a stream of blood issuing from the man's face, a pair of lavender eyes. "I told you that you wouldn't regret letting me join." Samantha croaked, "Although I do, now."  
  
When the battle was over, Horatio fell asleep almost immediately. But when he came to again, the first thought that crossed his mind was Samantha. He bolted from his chair and went to the Surgery.  
He saw her immediately. She was one of the few people sitting up, but it seemed to take quite an effort. When she turned her face towards him, Horatio nearly gasped. A splinter, no doubt caused from the cannonball, had gashed her right cheek open. He could see white bone amid the red. It made him feel slightly nauseous. He looked into her eyes instead. "How do you fare, Samantha?"  
She winced. "Not well. The doctor's an incompetent prig. He's run out of bandages for my face. To top it off, I've found another splinter that's going to be impossible to get out alone." She lifted her shirt slightly and showed him the long shard, inches from her heart. "I'd call Lady Barbara, who seems to know what she's doing, but I don't want her to know."  
"Samantha, you'll die without proper care. You'll be found out soon enough, anyway. It's better for her to know than the doctor. Anyway, you're a damn good steward. I want you back."  
She managed a smile. "Call the Lady."  
Barbara soon proved herself to be above and beyond the doctor. She took one look at the splinter, not giving any indication of seeing the telltale signs of womanhood, and went to fetch the proper materials to remove the wood. When she had finally extracted the eleven inch piece of wood, she used strips from her own dress to bandage both wounds. It was only when she had finished that she smiled at Samantha and whispered, "I knew you were no man." But she said nothing about it to the others. Horatio's respect for her grew.  
  
About a week later, when Horatio visited Samantha one evening, she abruptly mentioned her father.  
"I wonder if Father will make me work in the brothel when I return. I doubt it. No man can be happy when he has a whore with this face." According to Barbara, the wound was healing, but it was doubtful that it would ever look right. Samantha shook her head. "He'll be furious, of course," she sighed, "God knows what he'll make me do now. Whatever it is, I'll probably start to miss the brothel."  
Horatio considered the woman laying before him. "You could always continue your charade."  
"Trust me, once my father found out I left the brothel, he probably started watching all the ships that returned to port. He'll know me. Even with this." She pointed at her cheek. In the silence that fell, she seemed to be considering him. Finally, she said,  
"Horatio, I want to ask you for a favor."  
Horatio looked at her, puzzled. "Perhaps. What is it?"  
"Well, it's more of a question. As I am still your steward, I feel I can ask. Is there anything I can do for you?"  
"Samantha, you told me you can barely stand. What could you do?"  
"Is it cold out, or is it just me?"  
Horatio shook his head. "No, the weather has become a little cold."  
"Then I have a duty, as your steward, to prevent you from becoming ill." When Horatio still looked nonplussed, she managed a weak laugh. "I still could keep you warm, Horatio."  
Horatio's mouth dropped open. "Now you understand." she said.  
"I can't, Samantha. You're still healing!"  
"Don't worry about me, Horatio, I'm fine." Horatio was adamant. "I refuse. I won't let you suffer like that."  
"Horatio, this is my choice. And if you'll just listen, I'll explain." Horatio leaned back. He was filled with curiosity. Why would a woman who had hated selling herself ask him for this?  
"Horatio, for four and a half years, strangers have used me. I felt nothing but contempt for them. I hated what they were doing, every second of it." She looked at him. "In fact, the truth is that I have been used ever since I was eighteen. My father wanted me to do his work, give him an easy life by basically killing myself. If it wasn't for three men, I would have come to the conclusion that all men are to be loathed." She paused. "Those men were Clayton, Captain Edward Pellew, and you."  
Horatio was astounded that she included him in that list. But somewhere deep inside him, he was pleased she thought so. Samantha continued.  
"The truth is, Horatio, I don't know if I'll survive the trip home. There isn't anything on this ship that can prevent either of my wounds from becoming infected. If that happens, I'm a dead man." She swallowed. "But, if by some miracle, I do survive, what do I have to look forward to? A father's wrath, and another hellish job. Either way, my life shall be misery. All I ask is for one night where I can feel happy."  
"But...why me?" Horatio stammered. She stared at him. "I told you, you are one of the only men I respect. Now Clayton's dead, and Pellew...I wouldn't ask him, even if he wasn't an admiral now. Anyway, Horatio, it's you who have been the most influential upon my life."  
Horatio shook his head. "I can't. I..."  
"I know." she said, quietly, "You're about to protest that you're married. You don't think I don't know? I read those naval papers. I heard about the wedding, and about the birth of your children. If I wasn't dying, I wouldn't ask you this, and you know it. But because I am, I ask you. You don't have to tell her about this."  
As Horatio opened his mouth again, she cut him off. "Wait. I know why you can't. It's not my face, or my health, or the fact that we're friends, or the fear we'll be found. It's not even the fact that you're married. No, it's your honor."  
Horatio gaped at her. It was almost as if she could read his mind. She smiled, knowing she had gotten it right. "Yes, I knew. You have honor, something that's ordinarily foreign to me. But I know you. You made a promise to your wife to love her forever. If you went back on your word, it would haunt you the rest of your life. And I don't want that to happen to you. I respect your feelings. So forget I ever asked." she turned on her side.  
Horatio looked at her back, thinking about what she had said. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You are right when you said that it would haunt me. But, if I didn't, and you died, I'd never forgive myself. I think a dying woman's last request is worth more than my honor."  
Samantha looked back at him with those piercing eyes, and smiled. "Carry me to your room, then. No one must know of this."  
  
One week passed, then another, and Samantha held on to her life. Horatio stopped visiting her, partly because she seemed to be in pain, and partly because of his guilt. After that one night, he had tried to ask her if she had been satisfied. But he got his answer when he saw a light coming from her face, illuminating her and making her look beautiful, in spite of her wound. But inside, he had begun to question if it was worth it. He feared what would happen if anyone ever knew. Maria would be devastated.  
As evening fell, three weeks after the incident, Horatio received a message that Polwheal was asking for him. Summoning up his courage, Horatio answered the call.  
Samantha was sitting in the hammock, her cheek un-bandaged. The wound had closed over the bone, but now the wound was tinged with green. She saw him looking. "The other one is worse. Horatio, I'm afraid it's the end for me." She took a labored breath. "I wanted to thank you for giving into a silly woman's whim. No man has ever done that for me."  
Horatio managed a smile. "It was the least I could do for a friend."  
"Nevertheless, I appreciate it." She breathed again. "Listen, I want to help you escape the wrath my father meant for me. When you come into port...I presume you will dock at Portsmouth?"  
"It's likely." Horatio answered. She continued, "When you come into port, a man will meet you. You'll know it's my father because he'll have my eyes. He'll demand to know if you discovered a woman among your crew. Tell him that you did, but that you didn't find me out until it was too late. Then tell him what happened to me, leaving out, of course, what happened that one night."  
Horatio flushed, but nodded. She seemed to relax. "One more thing, Horatio. In my sea-chest, there are two objects wrapped in cloth." She struggled for breath again. "One of them is a necklace my mother gave me. I kept it hidden in case Father wanted to sell it. I would feel privileged if your wife wore it. Or, in the worst case, you can sell it." She let her breath out in a hiss. "The other is my sword. I know it's just a cheap little thing, and that you have one much better, but I'd like you to have it."  
Horatio nodded. "Whenever I see them, I will remember you."  
She gasped for air. The end was fast approaching. "Good. I hoped...you would never forget me."  
Horatio touched her hand. "Never, 'Old Sam.'" Her eyes, which had been glazing over, became clear once more. She lifted herself as high as she could, looking straight at him, and managed to laugh that dewdrop laugh once more.  
"T-take care of yourself...boy."  
She fell back upon the hammock, her head falling to one side. Horatio stared into those royal-hued eyes, now looking blankly at him, for about a minute, then reached over and closed them forever.  
"I will, Sam." he whispered. 


	6. Chapter 6

Portsmouth, 1805 Honor (n): 7. Source of respect  
When Horatio came down the gangplank after docking in Portsmouth, the first thing he saw was Maria, smiling at him. He managed a smile back, pushing down the feelings of guilt trying to arise. But all thoughts of Maria were driven out of his head when he saw a thin man walk towards him, fury contorting his face. Even from a distance, Horatio could see the man had dark purple eyes. He steadied himself.  
"You are Captain Horatio Hornblower?" the man demanded. Horatio nodded. "I'm Thomas Nottingam. My daughter is believed to have joined a ship, disguised as a man. Did you find any women on board your vessel?"  
Horatio looked directly into the man's eyes, seeing both himself and Samantha reflected in them. "I did." he answered at last.  
"Thank God." the man sighed, "Where is she? I need to know! She owes three pounds to...someone. I did not wish for her to leave a debt unpaid."  
Horatio held up one hand. "Sir," he said, taking a breath, "Your daughter died two months ago, as a result of an infected injury received when she assisted in our battle for the Natividad. It was only then that we discovered her."  
Nottingam looked horrified. "I'm sorry for your loss, Sir."  
"Don't be." Nottingam spat. "God-damn bitch! Never listened to her father, Mr. Hornblower. I told her, 'Don't go out to sea, you'll get yourself killed!' But she went out anyway. I tried to calm her lust for the seas by making her a servant of some Captains, but she wanted to be part of it, and now look where it's got her!" He turned on his heel and stalked away.  
Horatio breathed with relief. The man had believed him. Perhaps now Samantha would rest easier. He made his way to Maria and embraced her. "I have a gift for you, dear." he said, slipping the necklace around her neck. The gold pendant winked in the sun.  
"Oh, it's lovely, Horry." Maria gushed, "Where'd you get it?"  
"A friend." Horatio said, slipping his arm around her shoulders.  
  
In his dreams that night, Horatio saw Samantha standing before him, smiling. "Thank you, Horatio." she whispered, her voice distorted by something, "For once, I feel as though I am safe. My mother and I are reunited again, and that is enough for me. But I wanted to see you one last time." She seemed to come closer to him, close enough for him to see those eyes of hers. "I wanted to tell you that it was an honor to know you, Horatio."  
When Horatio awoke, he felt, for the first time in years, a tear run down his face. 


End file.
